


Violation

by ThisCatastrophe



Category: SAKANA (Webcomic)
Genre: Edging, F/M, Femdom, Humiliation, Light Dom/sub, Oral, Pegging, bottom jiro, light bullying, top chie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 16:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisCatastrophe/pseuds/ThisCatastrophe
Summary: Jiro's been bad (?), so Chie needs to punish (?) him. PWP Jiro/Chie.





	Violation

How many was that? Four?

Four, Jiro thought, as Chie’s legs began to shake in earnest. She wouldn’t mind if he touched her, would he? Probably not. She seemed preoccupied. His hands slid along her thighs, absorbing the tremors and reveling in the feel of her tensed muscles. It was only a matter of time before she came back to her senses and ordered his hands away.

He tried to drag it out. Jiro ran the flat of his tongue along her clit, then sucked at it firmly, nose buried in a field of trimmed, bristly hair. Above him, Chie’s voice cracked (he silently congratulated himself for that one) and wavered, but he couldn’t make her orgasm last forever. Eventually she came down and pushed his head away, suddenly overstimulated.

Licking his lips, Jiro looked up at her, placing his hands firmly back on his knees where he’d been instructed to leave them. “Good?” he chanced, lips curling up at the corners.

Hair stuck to her sweaty cheeks, and her shoulders shook, but Chie still looked every bit as gorgeous as ever. Even more, Jiro thought. He’d just spent the better part of an hour in some sort of religious experience (he’d never been religious, but the First Church of Chie’s Pussy was just the place for him), working her over as she instructed, soaking in the attention and praise and taking her orders eagerly.

“Good,” she replied, finally back on earth. “Good, what a good job, sweetheart,” and her hands found her way into his hair, ruffling and pulling gently, sweet praises on sweeter tones spilling down around him. His face warmed for neither the first or the last time that day, and he kissed the fingers that stroked along his cheeks and jawline.

“But,” Chie said. Her usual tone of mischief came back in force. “You didn’t do what I asked you, did you?” The right corner of her mouth split apart, and her grinning teeth glittered behind her lips.

“I-I did… what you asked, I think? You asked for me not to pull away until you came, right? That’s…” He trailed off. It was a futile effort.

“And I also think I asked for your hands to stay on your knees. But didn’t I feel something on my thighs, maybe?”

“It might have been—”

“—the same thighs you asked me to let you fuck earlier?” A giggle, high and clear, filled the room, and Jiro felt dizzy and hazy in the way he always did when Chie exerted her force over him. “I noticed, Jiro. What a shame, though. I was going to let you off easy tonight!”

She crouched to meet him, pressing a stabilizing fist into one of his thighs, holding him down. A manicured, infinitely-tidy hand gripped his chin and pulled it, firmly and smoothly, to point his face into hers. “You need to be punished, now, honey. What am I going to do with you?”

Jiro swallowed hard. Every thought he had dissolved into blurry images of Chie’s contorted face, her shaking belly, the hand that pulled at a nipple just before she came. Asking him to think in this kind of state? Not a chance.

But that was part of the fun for Chie. For them both, really, though Jiro wasn’t in much control of himself at the moment. Among the many other things they tried together (pain, restriction, humiliation, more pain), delayed gratification was always a mainstay. Chie loved seeing how Jiro reacted when he was long past the point of no return, when he would do anything to be touched.

Not to say he didn’t enjoy it as well.

“Well? Jiro, what’s your punishment today?” Chie asked. Jiro started a little. He’d been lost in thought again. Not uncommon, even now.

“Do I… really have to say it out loud?” The fist burned against his thigh; he thought about the concealed smooth palm sliding around his cock, warm and slick with perspiration, and a shiver crawled through his spine. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Only good boys are spared,” she chuckled. But she allowed a gentle hand along his hair again, briefly letting go of his jaw before capturing it again. “And remember, if you suggest something bad I’ll make it worse.”

No way in hell she’d let him come. Not tonight. Not after disobedience. But what could he offer her that they hadn’t already done? He couldn’t ask to be spanked, not for a second time in a day. She wouldn’t want to be worshipped a second time (or, honestly, she would, but Jiro didn’t think his jaw could handle that). Nothing public. There wasn’t enough rope in his apartment for her to tie him the way she’d want to.

There was one more thing. Weeks ago, she bought a strap-on. It scared him; when she first sent him a photo of it he blacked out for the first time in a long time and woke up in his kitchen, surrounded by empty milk cartons and some very confused roommates. Once he cleaned up and calmed down, he took a second look at the picture.

It was powder pink and ridged down the sides, as far as he could tell, set in a black harness. Not too big, not too thick, curved just a little bit at the end. The salesperson claimed it was good for prostate stimulation, Chie reported. Jiro believed her.

She brought it up once or twice, but the anticipatory look on Jiro’s face never said “please try this on me” so much as “I’m dying, please call an ambulance.” So they never got around to that one. It sat forgotten in a side pocket of the bag Chie used for her toys, pressing a threatening, this-dick-will-someday-be-in-you shape into the fabric, driving Jiro’s anxiety up every time.

But in the meantime, Chie kept doing what they had already been doing. After long days at the stall, she treated him. Blowjobs, Jiro’s left leg kicked over her shoulder, an arm across his face, hiding the deep red color in his cheeks and ears. A finger curling inside him, a gentle, teasing finger-pad pressing against his prostate. Not always. But it was an ingredient in all the best blowjobs.

So he asked.

“Fuck me,” he murmured. He tried the sultry, come-hither look he’d been working on, but it failed, and he settled for staring into her throat. “With the… with that strap-on. The one you got a while ago?”

Her face brightened, and she laid a gentle kiss on the bridge of his nose. “Have I told you lately what a good boy you are?”

Fifteen minutes later, and Jiro found himself with his cheek pressed into the soft fabric of his futon, Chie’s hands exploring his arched back.

“When I asked for—”

She cut him off. “Before you ask, yes, you do have to be face down, ass up.” He knew she was smiling. Swear to god—there was a sound to it, a noise that said she was beaming serenely while she violated him. “It’s better like this.”

Jiro would be lying if he said this wasn’t exciting, but he’d also be lying if he said it wasn’t embarrassing. He pressed his face further into the bedsheets.

Warm lips pressed against the back of a thigh, and he flinched a bit. They trailed down, leaving a burning path along a shivering muscle, almost distracting him from the probing fingers that opened him up one more time. She’d already worked him over with one, then two, then three fingers (three was, in Jiro’s opinion, excessive and more than a little tortuous now that he knew what was coming), and now? Now she was just teasing.

The strap-on had long ago left the bed. At some point he had felt her hand still, and the teasing digits of her left hand abandoned his cock. It was obvious that she was struggling into the strap-on, but she clearly didn’t want help, considering the pose she’d left Jiro in.

Now, it brushed the back of his leg, passing over the tingling span where she’d kissed him seconds ago. He shivered, suddenly anxious again, but Chie’s free hand held his hip in place.

“You’re sure about this, Jiro?” she asked in a low tone, dropping out of the domineering persona for just a second. “We really don’t have to if you don’t want to. You remember the safeword, right?”

He turned his head into the futon and braced himself on a shoulder, glancing back at her. “It’s ‘crab.’ And… I really do want to. Just go easy, okay?”

She beamed again, and his anxiety started to melt away. Jiro willed himself to leave all his worries in the sheets below him, let them crawl through the floorboards and out to the balcony and over the railing, into the air. He took a deep breath and held her gaze.

The look of mischief came back across her face and the fingers left him. That hand on his hip gripped tight and he felt a much-thicker-than-fingers thing slide across his exposed ass.

“I can’t make any promises, honey,” she said, and slipped the head of the pink cock into him.

Jiro tried to breathe, but it didn’t work. His back arched involuntarily, and for a second it felt like his knees would give out below him. The giggles filling the room told him he looked just as unstable as he felt, but a second hand joined the first on his hips and Chie held him steady.

It slid into his slowly, each time moving after the tremors in his back subsided. He was aware, vaguely, of the low groans that left him each time Chie brought her hips closer, but he focused on relaxing, on following instructions.

Chie’s gentle voice coaxed him, asking for compliance, telling him he was beautiful and look how good he was for her. Relax, she ordered, just relax for now, relax until you’re ready.

It seemed like years before the strap-on was sheathed in him and the black harness straps pressed into his legs. A warm belly pressed into his back as Chie bent down, wrapping her arms around his waist, exploring the toned muscles and the heat of a blush that travelled all the way into his torso.

“You’re doing a good job, Jiro,” she cooed, lips somewhere below his shoulder blades. She laughed at his distressed, breathless attempt to thank her and pulled him closer in her arms, settling the silicone cock deeper (somehow? How was that possible?) into him. “You ready? I want to see you squirm.”

The room was silent for a minute, just Jiro’s labored breath rattling against the walls. He steeled himself and balled his hands into fists in the bedsheets. “Please,” was all he could manage.

Chie’s cheek, then chest, then belly left him, and his back felt strangely exposed. Shivers travelled from his shoulders to his waist. Fingernails bit into his hipbones as Chie pulled away, leaving just the tip of the dildo seated in him. As she shifted, its ridges juddered against his walls; he felt his cock jump in response and worried that he wouldn’t be able to handle whatever Chie wanted to do to him.

With a much harder thrust than he expected, Chie’s hips met his again. Jiro shivered in pain, but at the same time, he gave a rasping moan, the muscles of his thighs flexing into painful knots.

One of Chie’s hands left his hips and grabbed for his ass, gripping a handful of skin with a stinging pressure. He focused in on the feeling of her hand as she rocked back and forth, settling into a shallow, steady pace.

The pain subsided soon enough. Eventually, he even wanted more, and his voice returned just enough to beg Chie for just that. He was surprised when she didn’t cackle; she just adjusted her grip on one hip and laid a stinging slap on the other.

There were no commands. Chie seemed just as lost as he did, her comments growing hazier and trailing into affectionate whispers. The hand on his ass traveled around to his front and explored his belly, pulled at a nipple, stroked his cock for a second until it seemed she was afraid her touch would end the encounter early. Deep, satisfied groans, both of their voices mingled, filled the room.

He almost cried out when the strap-on left him entirely, but Chie’s hands grabbing a thigh and knocking him sideways brought him back to reality. She straddled one of his legs and hooked the other over her shoulder, shaking her now-ruined hair out of her face.

“I wanna see this,” she murmured, and slid into him again.

Jiro’s toes curled in response, and he let his head fall back into the sheets. His body was betraying him, his hips pressing into Chie’s thrusts, and he threw an arm over his face (as usual) to hide the red. Safely hidden in his forearm, he let his face contort the way it wanted to.

“Chie,” he managed between agonized moans, “Please let…”

She was too impatient to let him finish. “Let you come?” A rasping, aroused laugh, more a façade of control than the reality. “I’ll touch you when I want to. Patience.”

Her hand crawled along his exposed belly again. She snatched a nipple in a hard, swift tug, and Jiro whimpered in response. Immediately, it embarrassed him to make such a noise, but the reward—a hard, firm thrust that sent the dildo’s head directly over his prostate—was worth the shame. His back curled away from the sheets, guiding each new thrust against his prostate as well.

That stray hand batted the arm away from his face, and she shoved her thumb into his mouth. Chie’s façade was nearly repaired, and through her face and ears were nearly as red as his, she grinned down at him, pinned beneath her and whining with his mouth forced open.

“Such a good boy,” she murmured. Her thrusts changed from hard and fast to long, steady and deep, and Jiro’s belly tightened at the feeling of that ridge brushing each time over his most sensitive area. The muscles in his jaw rippled; he wanted to clench his teeth, but Chie’s hand held his mouth open, humiliatingly, a violation of his expression. “I told you it would be good. And since you made me wait so long, I’m going to spend a good long time playing with you before I let you come. How’s that–?”

Jiro shuddered deeply. His stomach rippled in the way it always did when he came, and his leg clenched tight over Chie’s shoulder. All concerns about how he looked were abandoned; he knew full well that his eyes tended to roll back before clenching shut and that his legs shook and his hands stretched wide, grasping for nothing in particular, but none of those thoughts came to him at the time. All he knew was the feeling of Chie’s cock deep inside him, his pose, thrown back on the futon with his hand in her face, and the feeling of being at her disposal.

By the time his clenched eyes reopened, Chie had pulled back, pouting just a little, but obviously deeply satisfied. “Well,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he began.

“Don’t be.” Chie flopped down beside him and traced a lazy pattern on his shivering stomach, passing through a line of cum that decorated it. “I didn’t think you could come like that, not your first time.”

Jiro didn’t have a response for her. He let the shivers subside while he buried his face into her warm shoulder.

“Does this even count as punishment anymore?” he asked, three silent minutes later.

“Hm. Probably not.” Chie wriggled out of his grasp and moved find a towel. “But I don’t feel like punishing you anymore.”

He snorted. “Thanks. Very generous of you.”

Silence. She returned with a towel, tossed it across his stomach and his softening cock, and pressed a kiss to his chin. “You’re welcome.”


End file.
